Category Archives: Black Ice

October 25, 2019 · 5:30 am

paint it

“There is some hope here in the upper part of Black Dragon.”

“Black Drake,” she corrected.

“Right. But, see? More black than green here, black equaling rented or ‘in use’.”

“Especially around Black Drake Square,” she offered, taking a better gander.

“Black Dragon,” I corrected in turn.

“Sure. So. You’re saying this is one of those neighborhoods that could work for further stories.”

“Well, we have Rock Ramby and partner Vain and Artery Boy in the neighborhood already. He goes by Gill Alex now, in honor of his red and blue splitness.”

“I get that,” she responded. “No one else will, but I get it.”

“Like the RR (in Wazob).”

“Got it.”

“And then, let’s see, there’s the Red Umbrella of course, then Spunky’s, a local, popular eating and drinking joint.”

“Popular, local drinking and eating establishment,” she agrees.

“Then another gallery across the way from the Red Umbrella. And then, as we speak, there’s a dude over there who’s rented the place next door to it. And then, as soon as I rented the building for *our* gallery, someone almost immediately rented the building next door. See, Hucka Doobie? It’s infectious. Everything happens in clusters.”

“Like a gumball machine. The black is clustering together amongst the green. In Black.”

“And *then*, there’s Apple’s Orchard.”

“Applewood, yes.”


A new Black Dragon record store with gunn(s).

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October 24, 2019 · 8:30 am

enjoy the little things

“To be clear, Hucka Doobie, the paint brush sign for this Little Art House contains no green. Red, blue, and yellow, to be true. But green is gray or colorless, just like in…”

“… The Red Umbrella?” guesses Hucka Doobie correctly. “61 rr crossing 49; I suppose you’re right. But who… you go.”

“But who will play Lu Ellen? Someone, obviously, with a red hat or cap. Doesn’t have to be *that* cap; (simple) red will do.”

“She’ll have to be human as well,” adds Hucka Doobie still standing below the green-less sign. “What I mean is that at least outwardly she’ll appear as wholly human. It’s only the difference between here (Hucka Doobie grabs her breast) and here (Hucka Doobie grabs lower) that matters now. Then *this* happens.”

“You know who it has to be,” states Baker Bloch, looking over at his old friend the bee-person.

“Well. She *is* still living here. With her brother/lover. Might as well put her to work. Make her grean again.”

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October 24, 2019 · 6:23 am

green

After the funeral, the frog cousins crashed at Lu Ellen’s place just beyond the lower edge of Apple’s Orchard before moving into NWES proper. She was quickly indoctrinated into and made new leader of their Red Squirt Seven group, now headless since Melvin was dead. Melville “Peepee” Todd, that is, who also happened to be Lu Ellen’s father. They were all bound and determined, by blood and guts, to find the murderer: fellow cousin Bullfrog. Each spawned from a different sibling of the same family. And 3 of the 4 bound by a belief larger than family that happened to include family. A return to ORDER.

As new head, Lu Ellen tried to instruct the simple frogs as best she could. Yes, homosexuality was a sin in the sight of God and, yes, they were right to intervene, even though it cost them her father, their old head, their brains. Tough guy Kermit Winkler, simplest of the bunch, equals hands in this manner, perhaps health. Tough but warmer Lester equals heart, I suppose. And girl child Lu Ellen was there to lead them all back home. To sanity. To purity.

The irony is that she’s (almost) human, like Marilyn of “The Munsters.” Not that frogs are monsters, but you get the general point. She elected to be this way, to fit in better with the world at large, with costly procedures representing stepping stones from amphibian to homo sapien existence. And now that process is almost completed. Just one more operation. And then *this* happens.

(to be continued?)

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October 23, 2019 · 6:44 am

back

“Peanut,” answers Rock Ramby in his gruff voice to lover Gill Alex in their more expensive apartment on Southside. “That’s what we’re looking for. They’re all over town. Along with that other guy. The Guy guy.” He continues to stare out toward the sea.

“Guy Linden,” responds Gill in an effeminate voice from the pillows with the books inside, currently enjoying the backside of Rock instead. “Met him once on a railroad.”

Rock swings around and looks at Gill Alex directly. “W-why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I don’t know.” Rock’s front was not nearly as pleasant to behold as the behind. He was truly angry this bit of information was withheld from him.

“Especially concerning a *RR*.”

—–

They later ate at Spunky’s, a popular, local watering hole that we’ve already seen other characters of this current Collagesity photo-novel at (Merry Gouldbusk, Herbert Dune, maybe some others).

Oh, sorry… wrong “coffee Japanese Tea House.” There’re so many of ’em in NWES!

… let’s start again. They later dined at Spunky’s, a local, popular place to eat and drink.

Rock was taking too long to eat, as usual for his lover. Gill Alex was only drinking by this point, far ahead of his partner in that aspect. His two toned brain began to spin around the idea of the Guy again.

“He wasn’t my lover,” he defends between gulps, and then clunks the glass noisily on the table. “*Lover*.” His voice was increasingly becoming more Zeus-like, as it had been in novel 13. Not quite but getting there.

Rock woofs down some more lasagna pasta. “I know that, I know that,” he murmurs while simultaneously chewing, a little less gruff in tone to balance things out. “It’s just, ahem,” and here he sets down the fork quietly. “The RR and all.”

“Hitchcock?” Gill Alex scoffs. “We haven’t talked about that idea in months.” Then he had another idea. “Blue Berry Girl? Is *she* involved?” He stared at his purple wine back in front of his face. The glass seemed to hold a story.

—–

Out of the Misty Mountains she came, landing just outside Rock Ramby’s RR.

The dogg started barking…

… but then stopped as Blue Berry Girl crossed the RR and lost her plump, blue encasement. Herself at last!

Dogg bounded toward her, recognizing the long lost master. She scratched his ears while talking. “Outside, over there, I’m fat and bloated to the world. Inside I am free.” She looked toward the cabin no one lived in. “I’ll never be unfree again.”

—–

Yeah. *That* story. The dogg one.

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October 12, 2019 · 9:09 am

(BELL SOUND)

“What do you think, Hucka Doobie? It’s the Red Umbrella in NWES.”

“I see.” Hucka shuffles her feet. “I thought we were, er, done with this town. Splitsville and all.”

“Well… decided to give it one more try. The rent was so cheap. Thus (he indicates with his hands), voila.”

“Should we go inside, then?”

“Sure, we can do that Hucka Doobie. It’s all the art in the Red Umbrella in 7 Stones, though. You know all the works.”

“Have I interpreted them yet?” Hucka Doobie truly couldn’t remember.

“I — think so. Most of them anyhow.”

“Hmm. Let’s go inside anyway.”

“*Actually*, I wanted to show you something in particular. Jar your memory a bit, perhaps.”

“Alright.”

—–

“Before I forget, Baker Bloch, I wanted to tell you that ‘Humanvillians’ has returned to Fal Mouth Moon (in 7 Stones). Herbert Gold and April Mae Flowers’ story must be resolved; Uncle Joe and Aunt Zoe entrapped in a 2-dimensional realm once more.”

“Cool, Hucka Doobie. Good to know. I wonder if (we should allow) Danny to come back to the Fal Mouth Moon as janitor/receptionist, then?”

“Oh no,” replies the bee being firmly. “Tronesisia *specifically* said: that couldn’t happen. Besides, he’s pretty happy in his Metal castle in Dewey. Herbert Gold and April Mae are still there too. The Irish Village over in the Fi sim didn’t work as an alternative for them. Rent too high.” Hucka Doobie looks up at the Red Umbrella and its trademark sign. “Unlike here, it seems.”

“Very cheap,” Baker Bloch reinforces. “Especially for an urban area. I even bought the building online, thinking I could just move this whole new version of the Red Umbrella over to 7 Stones to replace the one there. Didn’t work out. Not yet.”

“Hmmm, sir, I say to that.”

“Hmmm,” Baker Bloch mimicked back, thinking Hucka Doobie knows something that he doesn’t know (once again). He stares into her dilated pupils. “We better get inside. The night progresses…”

“Sure. Thank you for the AO, by the way.” states an upright Hucka. They walk forward in their different ways.

—–

“Here, Hucka Doobie. The very first piece (of the gallery). See the jigsaw pieces?” The male Baker points.

“I see. You’re say that…”

“… I’m saying that this is NWES, the city itself. N equals North and green…”

“Blue,” Hucka Doobie corrects quickly.”

“Blue, right. Then *W* equals West: green; E equals East, which is red; and then, lastly, S: South: yellow.”

“Tile, then.”

“Right. The city *has* a center. Just needs to be found still.”

“I doubt it, Baker Bloch,” opines Hucka Doobie, shaking her bee head. She then rubs her neck.

“Neck still bothering you, Hucka?” asks Baker Bloch, truly concerned about his friend’s health.

“Nah, I’m okay. As long as I don’t walk on cement or pavement much, or hard ground,” she adds. “Just leaves. Soft, cushiony leaves.”

“Well… don’t let your *head* break off from your body.” Baker Bloch immediately regretted the attempt at a joke. Hucka Doobie looked over with those eyes.


ART=center?

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October 11, 2019 · 7:44 am

splitting

“Feel the emptiness in the center,” the small snowman instructed his pupil Herbert Dune from the, well, center.

The first explosion happened, rocking this Northside building. The snow-being, named Hugh, fell off the puzzle table onto the cushiony, knitted rug, losing his bell. Then the second, smaller kaboom happened, making his head separate from his body. No more instructions tonight from the diminutive, white guru. No more instructions ever. The dream was over.

Actor Sandy Beech stood up, looked southward.

But too many buildings were in the way to see clearly. “That wasn’t in the script. That wasn’t in the script!” he repeated, a second outburst louder than the first (mirror). He turned around to find the director, the cameraman, the soundman, etc. No one here. Any evidence of Bob Waffleburg’s dystopian parody film had disappeared. Sandy Beech was on his own again.

—–

Actor Alice Frame also suddenly found herself alone and without direction after the explosions, large and less large. The script she was reading for tomorrow’s shoot suddenly turned blank, nothing having ever formed or shaped out of these snow white pages.

—–

We must reluctantly say goodbye to NWES, its four jigsaw like pieces unable to come together to form a story any longer. But there’s always the possibility for return within the larger arc of another tale. We must move, Grasshopper-like, forward…

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October 8, 2019 · 5:45 am

appellations

The next day they explored the city together, finding mysterious yards full of containers and pipes…

… non-operating, unfinished subways…

… and loads and loads of apartments, the great majority unrented.

Well, if they don’t like the present neighbors (and they *do* have neighbors themselves — more on that soon, perhaps), there’s plenty of other places to live here. No land for sale in the area, though, except for one small 512 going for 58.6 lindens per square meter. By contrast, Baker Bloch paid an average of about 0.7 lindens for the land he set up 7 Stones on about 5 months back. So: expensive! Way too costly to contemplate another purchase, even if he had the tier freed up for it. So this is strictly a rental scene for his extended family, to tell a story about a burg much larger than 7 Stones, and its promise but also, yes, failure to live up to expectations. Rows upon rows upon rows of apartments, a strong police presence, pockets of interesting neighborhoods. But not enough, Sandy had determined a while back, and now with Merry Gouldbusk joining in the lament. Not enough to ultimately survive.

I compare with VHC City, a considerably smaller affair than NWES (still much bigger than 7 Stones, though), but with a strong, central *structure* the whole community is built around and which keeps it thriving. This would be the Virtual Hotel Chelsea, a dominating force. NWSE has no such centerpiece that I can tell, *unless* this police hq can become it.

Probably not, but thought I’d mention. Merry and Sandy Herbert also visited there this fine, crisp early October day. Merry saw something she didn’t understand.

“Look, *Herbert Dune*,” she declared while pointing upward. “INGO,” she pronounced clearly. She had said INGOR before and they had to reshoot the scene. But it was a logical mistake, *because* Ingor Ratts was a famous figure from WES, the town that kind of sort of prefigures New WES, or what we now call NWES. “Like the four directions, North West East South, combined into one,” Herbert Dune explains another time for Merry about the town’s name origin. “It’s pieces of a puzzle fitted together. Here, let me show you. I know this dude uptown who can tell us more.” But before we get to that: the first name. Merry Gouldbusk again here, then:

“INGO, Herbert Dune, is my *brother*, my slightly older brother.”

“Big Brother, then,” states Herbert Dune while nodding. “I know how they are.”

She stared at the banner again, realizing: he’s been watching me all along!

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October 5, 2019 · 10:05 am

Vertigo-ish

He must get his eyebrow spiral just right. For today was the day to pop the big question. Just a little more product should do it.

—–

“The town *could* hold many mysteries,” she complained metallically to photographer Herbert Dune later at Spunky’s coffee shop on Southside, “but I’m not sure that’s the way it’s pivoting. A choice must be made soon. Am I a mixed up man-girl or one or the other? Not sitting on the fence any longer. Feel one part: one. Feel another: the other.”

Herbert Dune was staring at her hair, thinking: I believe you’ve already chosen, baby*doll*. My doll, that is. Could this be, could it be…? He said aloud: “I-I’ve made a decision as well.” Stumbling with his words? That’s not like him. He *must* be nervous about all this too. But he seems so close this time. After failing so many times before. A doll come to life. Dare he even think the name? Yes: All Orange. I think I’ve found her. “I wish you to become my assistant.” Confidence back now. He stares her straight in the eyes, trying to ignore the golden sheen. He’d almost found his style. One more trick with the hair at the shoot tonight might do it. Along with shedding the skin again, of course.

—-

“Wow, that was *da bomb*, Merry.” Marry me, Merry! he wanted to scream to the world. The illusion was complete.

“Call me Breeze,” the assistant then requested. She’d been pondering the new name for a while.

“Breeze it is!”

—–

“Marry me, Breeze!” He couldn’t help himself this time.

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